It Takes a Villiage
by booklover9508
Summary: It's been two year since Sherlock 'died' and now he's back; however, it seems as though life got a bit more complicated while he was away. What was just a fling with a beautiful woman seemed to bring new adventures to his old life. Because now Sherlock has to face a personal challenge, one he doesn't know if he is up for: Raising a family.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! This is my first fanfiction, so please any feedback is welcome and appreciated! Also, just a heads up I am an American so if I misuse a word or do not use the correct one please just let me know!**

**Additionally, I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters from the show. Just the plot, Rowan, and Iain.**

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><p>John looked at Sherlock. Just stared at him, for a copious amount of time. Granted Sherlock supposed he could've gone about a different way of reintroducing himself, instead of showing up as a patient at his work.<p>

"Wha-, But, oh man she's going lose it," were the first words out of his mouth. Sherlock cocked his head to the side. Her. Hmm, could be a new girlfriend, as John had quite a few. Maybe he had finally gotten together with Molly, his own personal favorite for John. His mother? No, couldn't be.

"Her, hm? Another girlfriend John? Please tell me she is at least a little intelligent unlike the one you had just before my vacation," he smirked. John quickly stopped his pacing.

"You- You utter arse. You died. We buried you. Two years, two bloody years. I- I asked you not to be dead, just not to be dead, and here you are. Have you even gone to see her?" John steamed, the vein that popped out when he was particularly irritated with Sherlock bulged. There was that her again, who is she?

"Her, who Molly? She's known this whole time, didn't she tell you?" he asked John confused. John looked at him with such wide eyes.

"Her, Rowan. You know about this tall," he said holding his hand several inches above him. "Beautiful, American, long brown hair, and eyes, your girlfriend before you left?" he finished. Oh Rowan. Yes, brilliant mind, quite witty as well.

"Ah yes, Rowan. How is she? Hopefully getting on quite well, maybe I'll visit her sooner or later. Sorta living in the moment right now," Sherlock smirked remembering the night before his "death", so much passion in that woman, he wondered how she contained so well.

John blanched at Sherlock. Then shook his head.

"You're coming with me," John said grabbing his coat and walking out of the building. He quickly hailed a cab, and both of them crawled into it.

"221 Bakers Street," John told the driver. Sherlock cocked his head to the side. They were headed home? Sherlock watched out the window as the familiar scenery passed by, he could see John out of the corner of his eye. He sat tense, working his mouth. Sign of either withdrawal, or irritation. Sherlock assumed it was the latter judging by the redness of his face, and his scrunched brow.

They pulled up to the flat, and got out. John paid the driver, and quickly walked to the door, pulling out a key and letting them both in.

"John, is that you?" called Mrs. Hudson. She walked out of her kitchen, and froze. "Sherlock. Oh goodness. John, does he know about…?" she asked turning very pale. John shook his head and she quickly straighten up.

"Well let's just hope she'll forgive you for such carelessness," she sniped before leaving the two of them in the hall.

"Well that was not the reaction I was expecting," Sherlock mused smirking. "I was hoping for something a little more dramatic, maybe for her to even faint."

"Yeah, I'm sure you did," John snorted humorlessly.

"What are you not telling me, John?" Sherlock asked thinking on Mrs. Hudson's comment 'does he know'.

"We're getting there," he replied as he began down the stairs to apartment C. Sherlock followed wondering why they were going down to the basement. Once down the stairs, John knocked on the door.

"Just a minute," a familiar voice called from the other side. Sherlock moved himself away from the door as to not be seen just yet. A woman answered the door, and Sherlock was confused, a feeling he loathed. There was Rowan, a woman he dated for a brief time living in his building? Why?

"John! Goodness, I didn't expect to see you till tomorrow," she greeted John with a brilliant smile. Jealously suddenly panged inside Sherlock. Why was she so excited to see John? Were they dating? Sherlock observed her more closely, she was still amazingly beautiful. She hadn't changed much besides the fact she looked so tired now, and not as youthful when he last saw her.

"Rowan, um well I ran into someone. Thought you might want to see them," John stuttered. Sherlock took this as his cue to step out.

"Hello," He greeted her. Her eyes widened in shock, and she stopped breathing.

"Rowan," John tried to calm her down, but she was past that point. She swayed, and both men caught her as she fell.

"That was the reunion you were hoping for, yes?" John asked.

He pushed the door open more and led Sherlock over to the couch in the living room, where they laid her down. John quickly grabbed a blanket, and placed it over her. He then went to what looked like the kitchen. Sherlock took the time to look around what used to be a non-live able apartment.

It had been completely redone, and was decorated very homey. The living room was decorated in warm neutrals, browns and tans. She had very fine taste still, he observed. Cooking magazines littered the coffee table, Sherlock assumed with dog-eared pages to mark recipes she liked. Blankets and Afghans were folded in the corner stacked very high, he remembered she was very cold-natured and smirked recalling memories of her always complaining about the cold. He continued to observe, little things like pictures of her, her family, and friends. There was one of her and him, he walked over picking it up. She pestered him for it, as he hated pictures. 'Just one, please?' she pleaded her southern accent getting stronger as she begged. He finally rolled his eyes, and let her have her picture of them. He was shaken out of his musing when John came back with some water, and crackers.

"Rowan, come on wake up," he said touching her arm bringing her back into consciousness. She stirred and opened her eyes.

"John?" she mumbled.

"Yes, yes, you fainted when you saw Sherlock," he smiled at her. Sherlock tried to ignore the rising irritation he felt when she said John's name. She looked over to him now.

"You- You're dead," She whispered looking so sad.

"Nope, alive as can be," he smirked. Her sadness soon turned to anger.

"And you decided to come back just now?" she said, tears creeping into her eyes. Sherlock suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

"Yes, it was time to come back from my vacation and get back to work," he replied. However, it seemed his comment only made her even more mad.

"Oh, your vacation? That's what you're calling it? Well I hope it was very relaxing, as you left everyone that cared about you behind without telling us!" she stumbled to stand and John quickly grabbed her by the waist. Tears were running down her face, and she finally pushed John away and got right in his face.

"You Sherlock Holmes, are such a selfish, ignorant bastard. I can't not believe you have the gall to come back and just sit there with your stupid arrogant smirk! I just want to sma-" she yelled, until a tiny voice interrupted.

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><p><strong>Thank y'all for reading, hopefully I'll get another chapter up soon. Please Rate Review!**


	2. Chapter 2: Meeting Iain

**Okay Chapter 2! Hope you enjoy!**

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><p><span>Chapter 2: Meeting Iain:<span>

"Mummy?" All heads turned to the hallway door. A small toddler stood in the doorway, he rubbed his eyes still sleepy. His small clothes were rumpled as it seemed it just got up from his afternoon nap. Sherlock observed the child, he had had light brown curls, and eyes that were a dark green. His little face was very angular, with high cheekbones like his mother, and a pointed nose. He couldn't be older than two. Two. He suddenly saw it, it clicked. John's anger. Mrs. Hudson's anger. Her. Her. Rowan. Why she lived down here, to be close to John and Mrs. Hudson. Her anger and her sadness. This child, how did he not see it? The child was a perfect replica of him at that age, with a few of Rowan's traits sprinkled in. He suddenly felt very light headed, and made his way to the couch.

"Iain, what are you doing up hmm?" John asked the child picking him up.

"Heard Mummy yelling," he mumbled. "Uncle John, who's he?" he asked finally looking at Sherlock.

"Umm he's Mummy and I's friend, Sherlock," John answered. The child's eyes lit up.

"That's my name when Mummy is mad!" he giggled, "Iain Sherlock Holmes!" he imitated his mother and what Sherlock recognized as the face she made when scolding him or John, and apparently Iain now. Sherlock suddenly looked at Rowan. She blushed up to her hairline, and John took this as his cue for an exit.

"Hey Iain, let's go find a snack," he spoke to the child and headed toward the kitchen.

"Look I understand if you don't want to claim him as yours, we can just tell him you're his Uncle's best friend and leave it at that," Rowan mumbled trying to busy herself with straightening her magazines.

"I hardly think that is applicable, he looks just like me. Eventually he'd figure it out, he seems rather intelligent for a two year old," Sherlock answered slightly offended she would think he wouldn't take responsibility for the boy.

"Yes, he is. Your brother says he acts just like you did at that age," she smiled.

"Mycroft?" Sherlock asked confused.

"Yeah, he's actually really good with him. Until they get tired of each other and then it's like listening to the two of you bicker," she nodded. Mycroft hadn't told him anything of this situation when they were in Russia. What an arse.

"Mummy, Mummy, Mummy Uncle John made a mess," the little one tattled coming in with bottoms of his pants and socks soaking wet. Sherlock looked disgusted, wondering what could possibly be on his pants, but then stopped when he heard her laugh for the first time. It was a glorious sound, one he didn't realize he had missed.

"Well I guess Uncle John is just going to have to clean it up himself, while I clean you up," she smiled tapping Iain on his nose. "Excuse us," she told Sherlock as she led the child into the hallway. Sherlock stood to see the damage in the kitchen, only to find John covered in milk, and a plate of biscuits on the floor.

"Interesting way to entertain the child, John," Sherlock grinned. John looked over giving him one of his famous glares.

"Your child has your gift for mischief, and knocked his snack out of my hand," he replied.

"How old is he exactly?" he asked his old friend.

"He's a year and a half," John said shaking his head.

"Interesting, I would've guess two and a half by his speech," he responded thinking.

"Well with two of the smartest people I know having a child I'm not too surprised with his development. Plus, Rowan is pretty on top of teaching him proper English, and correcting him on his speech," John explained as he mopped up the milk.

"A year and a half put his conception roughly-" Sherlock started.

"The night before your 'death', yes," John interrupted. "Rowan came to me about two months after and told me she was expecting, and I knew she had only been with you in those past two months so it had to be yours. She asked me to be her doctor, which I knew nothing of pregnancy so I told her no, but I'd be there every step of the way. Mrs. Hudson soon found out once she started to show, and thought it was mine. She beat with a broom, telling me how disrespectful it was to get with my deceased best friend's woman. Then once she found out it was yours, she insisted on Rowan living down here. She fixed it all up for her, and Rowan moved in when she was six months along. Eventually Mycroft came by, and by chance saw her, he figured it out faster than Mrs. Hudson, and gave her his credit card for any expense she had. Anyway, the night Iain was born she called me down, and we headed to the hospital. She cried the whole way, telling me how much she wished you were there with her, and how much she hated you wouldn't ever see the baby. It was a rather emotional car ride, but then we got there, and Mycroft was already there, not saying how he knew it was time. We both had to wait in the waiting room, not matter how high of a governmental security clearance your brother had they wouldn't let him in. Finally a nurse came out, and told us we could see them. Rowan was so tired, she had been in labor for twelve hours, but she was glowing holding him. 'Uncle John, Uncle Mycroft meet your nephew Iain Sherlock Holmes.' She told us. We both held him before a nurse came and told us visiting hours were over," He continued to ramble on about the first year and all that, but Sherlock had lost interest.

He was now trying to figure out what his next step would be. Tell Rowan he wanted to be part of his son's life? Ask her to pick up where they left off? What if she had a boyfriend though? The thought of anyone being Iain's father figure besides him left him with a feeling he did not like at all. Could he raise a child though? Support it emotionally, and mentally as his parents his done for him?

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><p><strong>Again I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters from the show. Just Rowan, Iain, and the plot.<strong>

**Please read/review! Thanks!**

**booklover9508**


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